


Can't Stop this Feeling

by ab2fsycho (orphan_account)



Series: If on a Winter's Night an AU [7]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, I am not sorry, Knotting, Luke is of age, Multi, Sex, Sexual Content, and now that's all I'll say, for this i am most definitely not sorry, heat - Freeform, let me start off by saying, oh yeah, one alpha two omega, serious themes ensue, sipping tea and moonwalking the frick outta here, that is all i shall say, these are things that happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alpha Hershel Layton has two omegas, and they both have very different needs. Half of his job is mediating the two, the other half keeping them safe because they have a horrible knack for finding trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So you know those fics? Hysteria When You're Near, Oh Say You Will, and Want and Need? Well, in my head they all really happened and now my OT3 can thrive. I am not sorry. Enjoy!

At some point, Luke realized he was not the only omega in Layton's life. Layton had come clean about it a few weeks into their relationship, when he started acting strangely for seemingly no reason. He had told Luke it was because his mate was near, but would not show his face. Luke wasn't really that surprised. How could he be? Layton was incredibly . . . incredible, really. What surprised him was that he was shockingly okay with it.

“Is this why you won't,” he had paused in the middle of the question, afraid it would make Layton too uncomfortable to answer, “bond with me?”

Layton had smiled sadly. “No, my boy.” It didn't matter how old he got. Layton would always call him that. “I won't bond with you because one day you're going to grow tired of following my every move.”

But he hadn't. Years had passed. Luke and Flora remained by Layton's side. Flora and Luke were in university, Luke studying veterinary science. Flora studied archeology, proud to have not only found something truly interesting but also to finally be able to hold a lengthy conversation with the professor. So far, the mysterious omega had been absent in their lives. Until one night, Luke would finally meet him.

He had woken up to Layton sitting up in bed, snarling. “Hershel?” he whispered. The professor placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, silently telling him to stay quiet. 

Then his features softened, as they often did upon realizing that it was the other omega whose presence he sensed. Though his features softened, he remained stiff. The professor slid out of bed quietly, and though he said nothing Luke stayed put. He knew it was best to leave Layton alone when he was like this, but his skin crawled for some reason. Rolling over, Luke tried to fall back to sleep. At the very least, he tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart. After a time, he was successful.

Now he just had to keep himself from getting up and trailing after the professor. He knew good and well resisting that urge was against his nature, but something told him he wasn't prepared to find out who the other omega was just yet.

:)

Layton found him crouching beneath one of his windows, shivering and pulling at his own clothes. When the omega looked up and saw Layton, they said nothing. At this point, they didn't need to say anything. They had a routine, one they'd perfected even before Luke came of age (in every sense of the term). The routine was simple: get the omega undressed and changed into the set of clothes Layton always kept on hand with him, get him fed or taken care of in whatever way he needed (sometimes that included sewing up wounds), and help him on his way or get his rest. Rest or departure usually depended on the severity of the mission.

This was the typical routine for Hershel Layton and Jean Descole.

They went about this routine quietly at first, going through the motions. As always, Layton wished he could do more for Descole. However, the omega would not let him. As was typical. As Layton was resigning himself to taking care of Descole the only way he was permitted, Descole sat and watched him work in the kitchen.

And for the first time in years, the other man spoke more than just a few mumbles. “So how's the other man?”

Layton turned and looked at Descole, who had his fingers on his chin and a smirk on his lips as if he were reading Layton. He was certainly doing just that. Layton could tell, because for once the man's mask was off and his eyes were piercing him. Layton continued preparing some leftovers for his omega as he answered, “You still have not looked into who it is? After all these years?”

“You still haven't introduced me to him. I figured you wanted your privacy.”

“But you know he's a man,” Layton pointed out.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, the femininity in this house certainly hasn't increased, so I just assumed.”

“You know assuming gets us nowhere but trouble.” Layton set the plate in front of Descole, taking his turn to read the omega. Folding his arms, he watched as Descole moved slowly. He picked at his food, and it was then that the Alpha picked up on what was really bothering him. “You want to meet him.” Descole opened his mouth, but then closed it again. “You're afraid.”

“No,” he retorted a little too hastily. “It's . . .,” Descole dropped his fork, staring down at his plate. “I've been thinking.”

“Do tell.”

Descole hesitated. “I'm . . .,” he let out a sigh through the nose, “I'm done. Done tracking down every last member of Targent. I'm about to have no purpose. Again. And Raymond retired a while ba—”

“You've been doing this alone?” Layton felt the bristle in his own voice, and had to reign in a growl for Descole's sake. While the man had since grown used to Layton's manneurisms, he was still too aware of his tendency to become overprotective. Descole tended to buck Layton's attempts to get territorial on him harder than they were both comfortable with, so he often walked a fine line between concern and overbearing.

Forcing himself to relax, he waited for Descole to respond. When he did, the omega did so softly, “I've left Raymond everything. All that's left is for me to find somewhere to . . . settle.”

This was it. This was the moment Layton had been prepared for years in advance. Yet now, things were different. “How do you intend to accomplish this?”

Descole looked down, exhaling loudly as he rubbed his face. “I don't know. I've always got places to say, but,” he paused, “it's only right that I discuss it with you beforehand.” Yes. That was a privilege Layton held as Descole's Alpha. Before Layton could say anything, Descole said, “I'd hoped . . . to have garnered the gumption to meet your new interest. Does he . . . ?” he trailed off, unable to finish.

Layton knew what he was asking, and nodded. “He knows. Just not your identity.”

Descole looked up at him. “Have the two of you—?”

“No.” Layton's answer was small and sad. “No, we haven't.”

Descole's brow pinched. “You've been together this long and haven't bonded?”

Layton looked to his feet, flexing his fingers as he sought the words to describe what he was feeling. “Believe me, I want to.”

“Well, don't let me stop you.”

Layton smiled. “I figured you'd say that. But no. It's not just you. It's that,” how did he say this, “he's young.” Descole's eyebrow lifted. “And . . . things are complicated.”

“How so?”

Layton didn't answer. He was about to, but his neck started tingling. Looking up, he realized someone was coming down the hall. His heart beat rapidly because he knew exactly who that someone was.

And when Luke's eyes landed on Descole and vice versa, Layton heard himself gulp and felt his stomach twist.

The two stared at each other, shock setting in as each took in the other. As the reality began to slowly sink in and their situation dawned on their faces, their expressions contorted in different ways. Luke's face became one of confusion and shock and Descole's became one of intrigue. Oh boy, Layton thought to himself. He could not have readied himself for the number of statements and inquiries that came flying from the two's mouths.

“Him?!”

“Him?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you'd be taller.”

“Where have you been?”

“How are you an omega?”

“How am I, how are you an omega?”

“Jesus Christ, you've barely grown haven't you?”

“I've grown plenty!”

“Yes, I can see that, but not a lot.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Only then were the questions directed at him, and Layton's only response was to hold up his hands and let his mouth hang open. He'd think that answer would be obvious given the way they'd greeted one another, but as Luke neared the table they both looked genuinely interested in what Layton had to say. Lowering his hands, he crossed his arms and sighed. Trying to quell the twisting of his stomach, he swallowed hard before saying, “Honestly would either of you have believed me?”

“Yes!” Luke shouted.

“Urm,” Descole scratched his head, “no. Though I really, really shouldn't be surprised.”

“What do you mean, shouldn't be surprised?” Layton retorted incredulously.

Descole tilted his head forward, looking at him as though he were being foolish. “You didn't see it? You didn't see the massive crush this kid had on you from the very first day?” Layton's expression was still blank. Descole rubbed one side of his face. “Dear God, the child idolized you before the two of you even met. Why else _would_ the two of you have met?”

“How'd you—?” Luke started, but Descole cut him off.

“Young Mr. Triton, you and I have known each other much longer than you have known the professor. In case you don't recall, I disguised myself under your roof for a decent amount of time prior to your joining Professor Layton on his adventures.” Luke looked embarrassed to have forgotten. It was a rather difficult set of memories, memories that tainted his opinion of the man sitting at the table quite terribly. Then Descole held up a finger and pointed at Layton before deferring back to Luke, “Which brings me back to the point, how are you an omega? Your parents were an Alpha and a Beta.”

Luke sighed, hands wringing themselves as he admitted, “I'm not sure. I think it's from my mother's side, but I . . . I haven't told them yet.”

That was a sore subject for Luke. He had managed to keep the truth to himself, both about his second gender and his relationship with the professor. While it was completely against Layton's nature to keep such a secret from someone he had once been so close to, he could understand Luke's desire not to inform Clark. Luke was his son. Ultimately, it was Luke's decision to have that discussion and not Layton's. Layton worried for Luke's reasons for not telling, however. He worried Luke was not being wholly honest with him and was afraid he wasn't telling his parents because he was ashamed. Then he felt ridiculous, because the idea of Luke being ashamed of anything just felt silly in nature.

Descole interrupted his thoughts with, “Well, this was awkward. But,” he picked up his fork again, “it went better than I thought it would.” With that, he began eating. 

Layton watched both the omegas, Luke's inquisitive nature getting the better of him as he came to sit at the table as well. Then Luke asked, “What have you been doing?”

Descole swallowed some food before answering, “Tracking down the last of Targent. I'm just about through with them. Permanently.”

Luke nodded. “Are you going to . . .,” Luke paused, as he did so often in the middle of questions to gather himself, “to stay with us?”

Descole slowed down, once again swallowing before speaking. It took him longer to chew this time around. “The notion had not occurred to me. Not since you stepped into the picture.”

Luke's brow furrowed. “How did the two of you end up bonded in the first place?”

“Convenience,” was Descole's answer.

“Protection,” Layton added before Luke could ask what was convenient about this arrangement.

“As an omega, it is difficult to maintain a certain air of authority. At one point, I was unable to hide it any longer. I blame him,” Descole gestured to Layton.

“I thought we were over that.”

“Still not over it. But the professor became my Alpha as additional protection. An omega who is bound is less likely to get attacked, you know.”

Luke nodded. “I'm aware.”

Descole looked at him quizzically. “Someone bothering you?”

“Oh, no,” Luke answered hastily. Layton knew he was lying. He knew this because he had in fact had to deal with a particular Alpha before. Said Alpha had taken to pestering Luke just to get at him. One day, Layton was going to teach Clive Dove a lesson. He really didn't want it to come to that, but he feared it might. Luke quickly changed the subject with, “Would you consider staying with us?” Descole looked surprised at the question. Almost as surprised as Layton felt. As if sensing the tension in the air, Luke looked back at the professor and stated, “Well, it's only right, isn't it? To ask?”

“I suppose,” Layton agreed. He just hadn't expected Luke to be the one to suggest it. Layton was afraid of asking without talking it over with Luke first, but it seemed the young man beat him to the punch.

“I,” Descole started with a full mouth. Getting the last of the food down, he said, “I really am questioning the logic behind this statement.”

“Well,” Luke began, “your Hershel's omega—”

“God, he calls you Hershel now. I've got to get used to that.” Descole's observation made Layton's face redden just the slightest.

“As I was saying,” Luke interrupted, “your his omega. Technically, you're the one who should be living with him now.”

“Under what rules are you working?”

“Look, I'm guessing as I go. What I'm really trying to say is . . . if you have nowhere else to reside, you should for all intents and purposes be here with Hershel.”

“He said it again,” Descole said, propping his head up on a hand. “This is a whole new level of strange for all of us, isn't it?”

“I agree,” Layton said.

“Well, I've said my piece at least. I'll let you think it over.”

There was a long pause before Descole said, “I will. Thank you.”

“Just to warn you, if you do agree to stay,” Luke lowered his voice, like Layton wouldn't be able to hear him, “he paces the halls at night growling sometimes.”

Descole lifted an eyebrow. “Still?”

Luke actually laughed. “I don't do it that often,” Layton declared more to himself than anyone in particular. He could bring himself to argue with Luke and Descole on that point.

Because as far as having one's two partners meet for the first time, this had gone exceedingly well.


	2. Chapter 2

Layton had certainly never asked for much in his life. He definitely had not asked for two omegas, let alone two omegas with the same capacity for getting into trouble.

Desmond actually wound up settling in rather quickly. He became a part of the household with ease, discussing schooling with Flora and teaching alongside Layton. That was the true blessing: how quickly he'd found work at Gressenheller. It seemed the university practically welcomed someone as high up and prestigious as Desmond Sycamore with open arms. Layton was grateful because he knew that as soon as Desmond had nothing to do, he would get bored and cause something.

Not that he wasn't causing something at the moment. Layton left the room for two minutes and came back to find Luke stretched out across the sofa with Desmond sitting on him.

“Get off me!”

“You squirm more often now than you did as a child. What happened?” Desmond picked.

“What's going on?” Layton interjected.

Desmond didn't look up from whatever it was he was reading. “It seems your furniture has learned to move and speak.”

“He sat on me!” Luke cried.

“Well,” Layton said with a sigh, “I can see that. My question is why?”

Luke look slightly embarrassed and wasn't going to answer. Then Desmond blurted out, “He asked me how I hid my—how did you put it, bread hair?—under the hat.”

“It was an honest question!”

Layton reached up to pinch his sinuses. Then he held up a hand and said, “Luke, perhaps a better choice of words could have been employed? You are talking to someone who almost threw you off a gigantic robot.” Luke looked even more embarrassed, and Desmond's face appeared smug for a moment. That changed when Layton added, “And your hair does look like loaves of bread, Desmond. You have to accept that.”

“Excuse me!” Desmond gave him a look of utter disdain then.

“At least he didn't say piggy tails,” Layton added as he moved to the kitchen for more tea.

From the kitchen he heard Luke chuckling, “He's right.”

“Shut up,” Desmond muttered back, face now as red as the rims of his glasses.

This became a common occurrence: Luke asking a question that resulted in Desmond retaliating in some way. The next time, Layton actually bore witness to the start of the incident.

“Why do you hate cats?” Luke asked.

“They're planning something. I know it.”

“Is it because you're just like a cat?” At this point, Desmond took Luke's hat from his head and tossed it across the room. “Hey!” Luke went to retrieve the hat, and when he turned around Desmond was chuckling. “That's not funny!”

“It is. I didn't even need to say fetch.” The next thing Layton knew, he had to stop Luke from smothering Desmond with a pillow.

It was Flora who broke up the next argument. It had started with Luke asking, “So when did you and Layton first get together?”

“Prior to bonding, you mean?” Desmond clarified. Luke nodded. “Remember when we were on the Bostonius and both of us were sick?” Luke's eyes widened. Desmond continued anyway. “Neither of us were actually sick.”

“You . . . you went into . . . while we were on the ship?” Luke looked astounded.

“Well it's not like I wanted to. My God, that was terrible timing on my part.” Then he turned a petulant gaze upon look. “And it's technically your fault Layton and I wound up together.”

Luke's expression was equally nettlesome. “My fault? How was it my fault?”

“Didn't you almost cause Ms. Altava to flip the whole ship? Pointing at a bird or something?”

“No!” Then Luke scratched his head, cheeks reddening as he recalled something. “Maybe . . . yes.”

“So the truth comes out. It was your fault then.”

“I don't see how that was my fault, exactly.”

“Raymond had to go make sure the two of you weren't in trouble and I had to go check on Layton in his stead. One thing led to another and . . . well,” it was Desmond's turn to fluster.

“You sound like you regretted it,” Luke pointed out.

“I do not. It was . . . it was nice. It was an experience neither of us really intended to have and now here we are.”

“You just couldn't control yourselves,” Luke picked. He was grinning, and that was starting to visibly grate on Desmond's nerves.

“Well, could you control yourself when you first went into heat?” Desmond was getting testy. Luke started giggling to himself, which only made Desmond's face redder. “What are you laughing about?”

Luke calmed down enough to mumble through his fingers, “I bet if you'd told him one of your jokes that would have killed the mood right quick.”

Desmond was seconds away from strangling Luke when Flora cut in to save the younger omega.

The relationship between the two omegas gave the appearance of being mostly mischief and bickering. The only bit of evidence that that was not entirely true stemmed from one occurrence in which Luke had caught Desmond getting dressed. While the man was the most experienced out of all of the members of the household, he remained the shiest in terms of his body. He required privacy, whereas Luke sometimes forgot that privacy was necessary for some people. It was part of why he'd been nervous the first time Layton had dragged him to bed with him and Luke. Luke hadn't minded, but Desmond had spent most of the time insisting he was happy to sleep elsewhere if there wasn't enough room (which there was, Layton had a fairly large bed).

Luke hadn't exactly walked in on him while he was fully nude, but one would think he had judging by the way Desmond reacted. “Get out!” he'd demanded, face red and covering his torso with the shirt he was going to put on until Luke appeared.

“Don't get your pants in a knot. I'm just grabbing my textbook,” Luke uttered. He shouldn't find it funny how sensitive Desmond Sycamore's bubble was, but he did. “Christ, you just have your shirt off. It's not like I haven't seen that sort of thing before.”

Desmond's face was beet red as he dropped his hands to his sides, clutching the shirt he was attempting to put on in one fist. Luke's eyes locked with something on Desmond's torso, and that caused him to stop moving and pause just before his hand brushed the doorknob. The lingering look manage to make the older man's neck tense and heat up in response. “You can go now!”

That shook Luke out of his trance. Shaking his head, he uttered, “Sorry,” before leaving. Desmond proceeded to continue changing, grumbling about the other's lack of respect as he fumbled for what it was Luke could have been so fixated on. It didn't occur to him what it was until he stepped back out into the living room and was greeted by Luke's open arms. Desmond sputtered, face heating up and reddening again at the consecutive losses of his personal space. Before he could ask Luke to let go or shove him away, the young man whispered, “Thank you.”

Well that took him aback. “What for?”

“Saving my life. In the Azran temple.” The young man sounded like it was taking all his strength not to cry. “I don't think I ever thanked you for that.”

Oh, Desmond thought. He'd seen the scar. Oh boy.

Desmond honestly didn't know how to react to this. Much of what had happened during that time in their lives was painful and bothersome. He'd seriously tried to forget the scrapes and bumps he'd received along that train of events, especially the moment when he'd almost lost his life. Well, prior to actually losing his life that is. That was something else he'd tried hard to forget about.

The young man's hug tightened, and Desmond found his arms returning the embrace in kind. “It was nothing,” he muttered, rubbing Luke's shoulder.

“No it wasn't,” Luke declared. “It wasn't nothing.”

“Well,” Desmond said, trying not to show how lost he was in how to respond to Luke's gratitude, “I'm glad I did. What would Layton do without you?”

“Make a mess, I'm sure.”

The garnered a small laugh from Desmond as they pulled apart. Adjusting his glasses, he grasped Luke's shoulder before walking past and continuing whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. He wasn't entirely sure anymore.

It was then that Luke realized that for someone who claimed he didn't care about much, Desmond actually did care a lot. He'd just had to learn to hide it, and now had a hard time expressing it. So he tried not to take it to heart whenever their squabbling wound up with one assaulting the other. 

On one thing they would always agree: it was their pleasure to share Layton. Fortunately, that was not the only aspect of their relationship that Luke could appreciate.


	3. Chapter 3

“It's a fine day for an outing,” the professor said.

“If you say so.” Layton ignored Desmond, who stared intently at his book and paid as little attention to his surroundings as possible. Looking briefly over at Luke, the professor could see the gears at work in the young man's brain. Apparently, Desmond was just as aware of Luke's rather loud thinking. “Try to take my book from me and you'll meet an end much worse than the one I had in mind for you on Ambrosia.”

Luke snorted. Frankly, the professor didn't believe Desmond either. The statement was made so softly that it was clear the man was just engrossed in the material and not actually up for threatening anyone let alone the younger omega. Still, Luke looked as though he were plotting something. This time it was Layton who said, “Whatever you're planning, I suggest you don't.”

“Neither of you are any fun.”

“Don't be silly,” Desmond replied, marking his page and closing the book. “Gentlemen don't have fun.” His grin turned sly. “Good thing I'm not a gentleman.”

“Up for some fencing practice today, then?” Flora asked as she caught up with them. She was practically bouncing with excitement at the prospect.

Just as Layton was about to tell both of his omegas no, Desmond responded with a happy, “Of course.”

“Fun!” Luke cried, reaching for the rucksack Flora kept the gear in and running deeper into the park with it. She followed him, giggling and calling after him.

The elder professor sighed, suddenly rethinking his answer. “I don't know if I have the energy today.”

“Seems Luke and Flora have sapped it all from us both,” Layton commented.

“Indeed.” He pushed the glasses further up on his nose. Desmond started just the slightest bit as Layton slid a hand into his. Then a smile bloomed on his face and he kept his gaze fixed on the path. 

“I suppose we'd better catch them,” Layton suggested.

“No need to rush. Doubt they'll do too much harm before we arrive.”

They caught sight of the two as they proceeded onward, Flora and Luke having stopped to converse with two other individuals in the park. Layton recognized the two immediately, and started bristling over the presence of a particular Alpha. His pace quickened as he forced a growl down, letting go of Desmond's hand as his stride continued to lengthen. If the omega was confused before or said anything, Layton did not hear it. He was a little too focused on putting a stop to the interaction between his younger prospect and a would-be predator.

When they arrived at the discussion, Desmond having clearly recognized Layton's behavior and seeking to keep up, Luke was visibly uncomfortable and Paul and Flora were forced to mediate the situation. Layton was somewhat reassured the other individual was Paul. He was just as capable of reining in Clive as Layton was at forcing Clive back. Unfortunately, this would not be a very pleasant event for either Alpha or Beta. 

“Leave me alone,” Luke uttered, hands clenched around the rucksack. Any other time, Layton might have commended him for not drawing a sword and inciting violence, but at the moment he was considering doing just that.

“I was merely making a friendly observation. One friend to another,” Clive commented, a less than friendly smirk spreading over his lips.

Layton's hairs bristled as his words came out a little more gravelly than normal. “What's going on here?”

Even Paul backed off at Layton's tone, hastily grabbing Clive's arm to pull him away as well. Clive shook off the Beta's grip easily. “Ah, Professor. I was simply making an offer to your young omega with whom you are still not bonded.”

There was a clicking sound to Layton's right that caught his attention before he could start growling. Without looking, he knew it was Desmond. Fortunately, Desmond had the good sense to keep his mouth closed rather than call too much attention to his fangs. Layton himself was struggling at keeping his fangs hidden and his snarls under control. The reassurance that Desmond was at his side was of little comfort, but it was something. 

Luke was content to step back and take a place between Layton and the elder omega, if for no other reason than because he felt less like he was being threatened by Clive and more like he was being protected by the others. It was Flora who spoke up next, though. “There are plenty of couples who go without bonding. Frankly, it's rude that you're being so persistent with Luke.”

“What can I say? He's precious.”

“Kid, how many times do I gotta tell you to back off of this one?” they could just hear Paul whisper.

Again, Clive shrugged off the Beta's suggestions. “Tell me, Professor,” Clive took a step forward, “why are you so opposed to sharing?” He went to move closer only to have not just Flora blocking his way, but Desmond as well. Only then did Desmond catch his attention. He frowned at the new face, then took in a noticeably long breath through the nose. After a moment, his eyebrows lifted and an even more devious smile appeared on Clive's face, making Layton and Luke both reach forward to pull Desmond back out of the Alpha's reach. This time, it was Desmond shirking their grip as the grinding of his teeth grew much louder. “Oh,” Clive murmured knowingly. “Oh my. You're a greedy one, Professor.” Had Luke, Flora, and Paul not leapt in between, Layton and Desmond would have launched at Clive. It was an alarming scene, the two Alphas snarling with fangs bared while the elder omega's fangs clicked and ground warningly. Flora and Luke were only just barely holding back the two professors while Paul only shoved Clive back with one hand. The younger Alpha's top two pairs of fangs were less intimidating than the eight pairs he was currently up against. In the midst of their snarling, Clive declared, “I know you.”

“What a coincidence,” Desmond hissed, “I know you as well.”

“World famous archeologist, lost his family to a terrorist organization.”

“Journalist _turned_ terrorist.”

“I resent that.”

“Layton, perhaps we can settle this in a less violent manner?” Paul tried to reason. Layton answered the Beta with a louder snarl, which managed to bring an exasperated sigh out of the man. “Of course not! Don't be silly, Don Paolo!” the Beta answered himself.

“Really, Professor,” Flora whispered non-specifically to her two elders, “I would much rather we didn't pursue an argument.”

“Hershel, please,” Luke whispered to his Alpha. “I'm alright, can we please just go about our day?” That actually did quiet the Alpha somewhat, Layton slowly slipping out of his aggressive stance. Backing off, now there was only Desmond to pull away.

Clive quickly quipped, “Your Alpha is leaving, omega. Best follow him before he gets annoyed.”

Luke had to grab Layton's arm to keep him from starting towards Clive again. Desmond wasn't as fazed by the comment as perhaps Clive intended, however. “Listen here, child,” he sneered the last word, “my status means about as much as yours does to me. Basically, I don't care that you're an Alpha. As far as I'm concerned, you're wet behind the ears and in serious need of being taught a lesson.”

“You gonna teach it to me, old man?” Clive jeered with a snarl, leaning forward against Paul's hand while Flora was steadily pushing Desmond back.

From this vantage, Layton could finally glimpse Desmond's eyes. He saw them going red, and knew that if he didn't start helping Flora rein in the omega they were all going to regret it. He slipped his hands through Desmond's arms and started pulling him back when he hissed out, “You have no idea what I'm capable of. I may be an omega, but I can guarantee you _don't_ want to challenge my alter ego.”

Only after he finished the sentence did he turn and willingly follow the others away from the scene. Layton tried to shake off the encounter quickly for his omegas' sakes. One was still slightly disconcerted and the other was now spoiling for a fight.

Clive and Paul said nothing further to them as they departed to another section of the park. With a fuming Desmond Sycamore in hand, Flora turned to Layton and muttered, “Perhaps the two of you should do a couple of rounds before Luke and I get some practice in.”

It took Layton a moment to remember what she was talking about. Fencing. That's right. They were supposed to be practicing fencing. “That seems a splendid enough idea,” he murmured. 

Desmond responded with the hiss, “I hate that arrogant brat,” before he went back to grinding his teeth.

Layton quickly uttered back to Flora, “Make that a brilliant idea.”

:)

Clive liked Desmond Sycamore. He liked him a lot. Shame, though, that Layton had such a pair of fine omegas so devoted to him. It felt unfair really.

As an Alpha, Clive wished he had the gumption to challenge him. As someone with more sense than that, he decided the only way he would ever defeat the elder Alpha would be in his dreams. In the meantime, he enjoyed watching the professors go at it from a distance.

“You're a moron,” Don Paolo had told him before storming off, leaving Clive to his own devices in favor of standing with Luke and Flora. Clive just shook his head at the old Beta. Honestly, what advice could he hope to give. It's not like he had any special knowledge in this area.

Despite Clive's antagonistic manner, however, he used to appreciate the company of the others. When he was with them he used to feel like the voices inside were wrong about him, that he wasn't just a monster treading a fine line between good and bad. It was just . . . difficult. Almost one hundred percent of the time, things were difficult for him. He wanted to be around them, but sometimes he just couldn't control himself it seemed. He'd explained this to Don Paolo once before, only to have the man tell him he had more control than he thought. He was under the impression Clive simply chose _not_ to control his urges and temper, that he went out looking for reasons to get territorial. Honestly . . . Clive would be lying if he said that weren't the case. And one day his determination to claim he wasn't wholly in control of himself was going to get him killed. This was certainly turning out to be that day.

At one point, Flora stood alone by a tree watching her gentlemen in their games. Having had her turn with fencing, she was worn out from practice. Sidling up to her, Clive whispered, “Bet I could beat you in a fight.”

She started at his voice, then grew peeved at his presence. “You really ought to develop some manners. You're wearing out your welcome here.”

“I can't help it,” he said, knowing good and well he was playing the sympathy card.

She wasn't having it, though. “You could be so nice if you would just grow out of this . . . this . . . phase!”

Something in the back of his mind snapped as he straightened up and turned to face her fully. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” she snapped. “This aggressive phase! What's the point? It's not helping you. If anything, it's hurting you. Grow out of it, already!”

“Where do you get the authority to tell me what to do?” he snapped. She jumped, unnerved at the sudden change of tone. Good. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you're not as terrible as you've been acting. You just need some help, is all,” she spoke a little softer now. What, did she think that was going to help? “We all have rough patches in life, but that doesn't mean—”

“My whole life has been a rough patch!”

“—that we get to treat others poorly as a result. If you continue like this, you're just going to hurt everyone, including you.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

Her eyes narrowed as she balled her fists. “Maybe because you almost got your head ripped off by another Alpha today? I don't know, that seems like a good indicator that you need help. Just stop harassing people all the time—”

At this point he didn't care how close the others were. He didn't care if they did in fact rip him apart. There was a voice in his mind telling him she didn't own him, that nobody owned him. Nobody had a right to talk to him, an Alpha, a 'journalist turned terrorist' as that omega had said, the way she was. Who did she think she was? _What_ did she even think she was? Shoving her into the tree, she let out a startled gasp as he snarled and bore his four fangs. “You don't talk to me that way.”

After an initial moment of fear and shock (he could almost taste her nervousness on his tongue), her own anger began to shine through. “Get your hands off me.”

“You gonna stop me? A Beta? What even are you, Flora Reinhold?” He found his face nearing hers, feeling her begin to shake in his hands. The part of him that often screamed for retribution was adoring this sensation, this surge of power. The smaller part of him that knew this was a terrible idea, that everything he'd ever done was a dumb idea, cried for him to back off. He wasn't paying attention to that part of himself, though.

He started leaning forward, wondering if he could prove to her the power he now held if he . . . how did Desmond put it? Taught her a lesson? Yes. That seemed right. Just as his lips were about to brush hers, something erupted from her chest and . . . that was growling. She was growling at him. “Get back!” she demanded, a strength he hadn't known she possessed awakening enough to shove him back. He stumbled, fangs disappearing as she grabbed him by his lapels and held him up despite his now weakening knees. When his eyes met hers again, he discovered the answer to his question. If the snarling hadn't been enough of a hint, the two small fangs in the front of her mouth were confirmation enough: Flora Reinhold was an Alpha.

And it appeared she hadn't known this about herself either. As soon as she realized what she'd just done, she let him go to cover her mouth. He dropped to the ground, still staring up at her. Though she was clearly mortified by her own actions, he felt something else entirely. He hadn't yet chosen a proper name for the feeling when suddenly she turned away to face the tree instead. “Flora,” he muttered, almost apologetically. At least, it sounded apologetic. As he spoke, he realized it sounded like he were listening to someone else speaking entirely. He just didn't sound like himself.

“Leave,” was her only response. She didn't look at him or address him in any other way. She simply told him to be gone.

He debated ignoring the command. After a few minutes, though, he realized that would be just as much a mistake as inciting the incident that had led to their revelation. Getting up, he didn't bother ambling over to Don Paolo to tell him of his departure. No, he was perfectly capable of finding the park exit himself.

In the back of his head, he heard a voice say he'd done enough damage today. He quickly ignored that voice in favor of trying to figure out just what that earlier feeling had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A holiday gift to the Layton fandom: more of my totally acceptable *cough* unacceptable *cough* ships!


	4. Chapter 4

Flora had a problem; a big problem. Up until now, she'd thought herself a Beta. Why should she believe anything else? She'd never felt anything toward an omega and she'd never felt territorial about anything in her life. Well, save for her village. That was different though.

How was she an Alpha now, though? Was it because she was a female? Why hadn't she responded to an omega? Luke went into heat for the first time years ago right in front of her and she hadn't even blinked. In fact, she'd been rather repulsed.

Oh dear Lord, what was she going to do about Layton? If he caught wind of her, he could easily . . . no. No, he wouldn't hurt her. He wouldn't do that to her. Oh God, why now? Why did this have to happen now?

Clive, she thought. That pesky varmint, that rat bastard, that uncouth son of a—

She forced the thoughts out of her mind as soon as she realized she was snarling. She felt her fangs beginning to protrude and resorted to slow breathing exercises to calm herself down. After a moment Flora sighed, trying to calm her nerves and ignore her suddenly sharper senses. She was an Alpha. She had to live with that now. So long as it didn't get in the way of her being around those she considered family, she saw no reason to act for the time being.

At least, that's what she had thought. Her anger at Clive had ignited something in her, and she sensed it as soon as she passed Professor Sycamore in the hallway. She'd stopped completely, mouth watering and sharp points digging into her gums. There was a vibration in her chest that left her confused, before startling her completely. She had covered her mouth, let out a squeak, and run back to the safety of her room.

She realized this was even worse around Luke. Luke, her friend whom she saw as a little brother. He suddenly smelled . . . utterly delightful to her.

She needed to make a decision. She didn’t like why, but knew it to be for the best.

:)

“Away?” Layton looked concerned. He felt his heart stop for a moment. “My dear girl, why?”

Flora shrugged nervously, and he knew he was not about to hear the full truth. “I’m just going to Paul’s. Figured you could use the space with your omegas.”

Well, he could. He knew he had rather odd habits about them, and his urges were fluctuating so much . . . he hardly felt like himself anymore. But that was no reason for her to simply up and go. “Flora, you have always had a home here. You always will. If you think you are in any way in the way, you are incorrect.” She gave him a small smile that actually left his aching heart a little warmer. “I do not wish for you to go.” The thought of Flora leaving . . . it sat with him wrong. It just didn’t feel right in the slightest.

She glanced down at her feet. “Professor, I’m . . .,” she took a deep breath. Here it came. The truth. This was why she was leaving, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it. “I’m an Alpha.” Layton stared at her hard. “I’m an Alpha, and I don’t want you to think . . . that I would . . .,” she pursed her lips.

Layton stood from his seat and moved towards her before giving her a hug. “My girl,” he murmured as she hesitated, then hugged him back, “nothing could change the affection I hold for you.” Pulling away, he then said, “But if you feel you need to go, I will not stop you. But please, if ever you want to come back, do not hesitate. You will always be welcome.”

Flora swiped at her eyes, then looked up at him with a more pleased smile. “Thank you, Professor.” She sniffled, then flung her arms around him again. He chuckled, hugging her back just as strongly. “Thank you.”

He was disappointed to see her go. As was Luke and Desmond. The house would feel emptier without her.


End file.
